The One's They Left Behind
by Lovie247
Summary: This is the sequel to The Bewitchin' Pool. Team family made it back home, but what happened to the people whose bodies they lived in for nearly a week? How will their alternates move on with their lives? What will they remember? This is a love story, a journey of discovery, and a path to friendship. I do not own TWD. Richonne, Maggie, Carol, Rosita
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** Thank you to everyone who's ever taken the time to read my stories, and a very special thanks to those who have taken the time to send me direct messages. I nearly gave up on writing. Life, as they say, simply got in the way. I wrote this entire sequel in my head while writing _The Bewitchin' Pool (TBP)_ …it just never made it to paper/computer. There will be many call backs and references to TBP in this sequel. I recommend reading it, if you haven't already. The summary below is just a refresher of TBP. However, should you choose to move forward with reading this story without reading its predecessor, I believe you will still find an amazing journey of love, discovery, and friendship in ' _The One's They Left Behind_.' Thank you again for giving me, and my stories a chance.

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 **The Bewitchin' Pool – Rewind**

The war with Negan was fully underway. Rick and the others had been betrayed by Jadis and her people. Rick was shot and Michonne was beaten. They needed to come up with a plan to win the war. Rick, Michonne, Daryl, and Rosita left from Alexandria, Maggie from Hilltop and Carol from The Kingdom. The goal was to strategize. They met at an abandoned warehouse somewhere between all three communities. While there, an odd storm arrived and within moments the room was filled with a swirl of lights.

They were transported to an alternate universe, a different earth, that had never been touched by the virus that turned the dead into carnivorous monsters.

Carol awoke in her house with a very vibrant and alive Sophia. Rick found himself sitting at his kitchen table with his wife Lori at the stove and his son Carl telling jokes. Rosita awoke at a hotel in San Diego with friends after a night of partying. Daryl was in the small back room attached to the auto shop that he and his brother Merle owned. Maggie woke up in her bed on the farm with her father, Herschel, downstairs making breakfast. Michonne woke in the bed with Mike, with her six-year-old son Andre sleeping in his bedroom down the hall. They were no longer in the post-apocalyptic world that had been their reality for three years.

They each had a rush of memories ( **not thoughts** ) of their _doubles_ ; whose bodies they were currently residing in. They now had two sets of memories. Confused and scared, the need to locate each other was overwhelming. Not only were they attempting to act normal in this new reality, they all had a sense of being watched.

Michonne was the most difficult to locate because, as they soon found out, her actual name is Michelle Onette. Once reunited, the six voyagers tried to figure out how they came to be in this unscathed world. While meeting in a diner only a few days after arriving in this world, they were approached by Dr. Edwin Jenner and Ms. Jacqui Stone.

Dr. Edwin Jenner was the man who let them into the CDC at the beginning of their worlds apocalypse. He told Rick that everyone was infected with the virus. Unable to find a cure and disillusioned with the prospect of living, he rigged the CDC to blowup. Jacqui, who had been a part of the group where Rick found Lori and Carl, was also ready to die- decided to stay. She blew up in the building along with Edwin Jenner.

Jenner and Stone told the group of six that they had information about their current predicament. The survivors decided, with strong reservations, to accept the invitation. They met with Dr. Jenner and Jacqui at a downtown Atlanta office building where it was explained to them how and why the molecular displacement accelerator was created; the machine which enabled interdimensional travel. He, with Jacqui's assistance, had targeted Rick. They remembered the deputy's resilience. And, for their own purposes, they were interested to find out about both his plight and that of the world they'd left behind.

Dr. Jenner told them that their bodies were encapsulated somewhere between the two dimensions. The bodies, _their bodies_ , were unharmed. At the meeting they found out that not only did Maggie's body (the one currently encapsulated between dimensions) hold an unborn child, Michonne's did as well. Dr. Jenner also informed them that he believed he could get them back to their bodies and into their world, if that was what they wanted.

The group decided to have dinner at the restaurant where the Glenn of ' _this_ ' world worked. Seeing and briefly interacting with him was cathartic for all, especially Maggie. She now had the strength to return to her broken world and continue their fight. The difficult decision was made by all that they would go back to their home. They had lives and family members to get back to.

Before heading back to their broken world, the crew decided to have a night of fun; movies, dancing and drinking. Rick and Michonne rediscovered each other on an intimate level and spent the night making love.

Rosita needed to see Sasha, for her own closure. With the help of Rick's friend in the FBI, Tim Dowd, they were able to find out which church she would be attending on Sunday. Michonne, Maggie, and Rosita went to Sasha's church In Atlanta and had the same cathartic moments with her that they'd had with Glenn the previous night. Carol and Daryl spent Sunday morning having brunch and spending time with Sophia.

Later that evening the group of weary travelers stood together in Dr. Jenner's lab as he, with Jacqui at his side, pushed the button and sent them back to their bodies, and their world.

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A/N: Chapter 1 of _The One's They Left Behind_ , The Glass Cage, is up now. If you'd like to drop me a little note before moving on to the story, I'd be grateful. I'm grateful and appreciative of your time either way.

Blessings…


	2. The Glass Cage

**Chapter 1 – The Glass Cage**

Dr. Jenner watched them through the window. Jacqui Stone stood beside him. He looked over at her, reached forward to the control panel, and pushed the green button. The room began to shake as a bright light consumed the chamber. The two observers shielded their eyes as a swirling orange and yellow liquid like substance broke through the light into the room. The walls vibrated, followed by a strident tremor. After thirty seconds the light was gone—the six people left behind were lying on the floor.

The two observers looked down at the screen and watched as the blips bounced around for a few moments. The blips -souls, spirits or whatever it is that makes us human- were gone after a number of seconds. The doctor and his confidant-turned-assistant stood in silence before glancing back into the windowed compartment.

8 minutes passed as the room remained practically noiseless. The only sound in the silently still room was the uneven breathing of the two observers, and the nearly imperceptible hum from the monitor.

Looking at the dark screen, Jacqui uttered wishfully, "I hope they made it back," it was a true lie. They were going back to a hell that she would never wish on anyone. The best that she could honestly wish was that they found whatever it was that they were looking for.

"I do too…" his eyes never moving from the glass chamber, "If all my calculations are correct, they should've," he said, offering small comfort and even less assurance. His words hung in the air. They weren't purposefully untruthful; simply hopeful, without proof to back them up. Faith was all they had.

The room was again filled with muted fluorescent light. All signs that a swirling light had been in there mere minutes ago were gone. She took a deep breath, shook her head, and focused her attention on the colorful crew lying on the cold white tile just beyond the thick glass wall…

"We need to check on them…wake 'em up," she said, not taking her eyes off of them.

Only minutes earlier the group of six were standing in a circle with their fingers interlaced; driven by love to hold hands and take their chances with the unknown. They were now stretched out on the sterile floor. Much like the people themselves, their hands were no longer connected as they laid clustered, yet separated.

The travelers from a post-apocalyptic world, who had resided inside of these temporarily unconscious bodies for nearly a week, were now gone. They took their deep love and respect for each other with them.

These individuals in front of them were complete strangers.

Dr. Jenner responded unenthusiastically, "Yeah," unable to peel his eyes away from the scene before him.

"How much do you think they'll remember?" Jacqui asked.

"Honestly, I have **no** idea," his stare at the odd group of six before him not abating.

"I, uh, think we need to figure out what we'll tell them…if they don't remember. And, especially if they do."

"Yeah," Dr. Jenner repeated flatly. His eyes remained transfixed.

Nearly one minute passed before Jacqui looked away from the window and watched the doctor. She put her hand on his shoulder and lightly squeezed.

"Edwin," she said, gently shaking him out of his trance-like state, "Are you listening to me?"

Dr. Edwin Jenner was a tall man with blonde hair that, in the past few years, had become more grey than blonde. He was a good-looking man. _Not your typical Brad Pitt type of good looking. More like a Robert DeNiro type of good looking,_ or so Jacqui had always thought.

"Edwin…" this time her voice was louder with a sense of urgency. He slowly turned to face his friend and fellow survivor.

"I'm sorry Jacqui, I didn't mean to ignore you. I'm just…" he looked back at the six people lying on the cold white floor, "they're just so…amazing. I mean, what they've survived. It's just…"

Jacqui followed his line of sight and again stared at the group. The people he was referring to weren't actually these people, but _I know what you mean._

"We have to make a decision. We don't have that much time. Looks like they're starting to wake up."

"You're right," Dr. Jenner said as they both watched the slight movements of Rosita Espinosa and Daryl Dixon. There was no scientific precedence to lean on; no frame of reference to clue them in on how this would play out.

"You and I are both observers of people. We're both good at reading body language. I…I think we base what we tell them on what they already know."

"What do you mean?" Jacqui asked. She watched as Carol Peletier began to stir.

"Well, we let them lead the conversation. We only fill in what we have to."

They were now facing each other. His eyes asked a question. Her eyes held dissention.

"Edwin," she shook her head, "I'm not gonna lie to them. They have a right to know. Plus, they probably…"

"Jacqui," he interrupted, "you know what's at stake here. Not only were our actions illegal, but some might even consider them immoral. Even though you and I know that we were doing something good. Won't change the fact that our lives…"

"I'm not stupid, Edwin. I know what's at stake," she snapped. The mild discord in her facial expression had morphed into slight anger as she cut off his justification for dishonesty, "you don't have to tell me that. But we have a much better chance of coming out of this only a little bruised if we're honest with them. And we both know that you weren't completely honest with their counterparts."

He exhaled his frustration, "I don't know what you're talkin' about…"

"Stop acting so damn innocent…like we're the victims in this scenario. You know exactly what I'm talking about."

She lifted her chin, narrowed her eyes at her good friend, and waited for his rebuttal. He sighed deeply and glanced back over to the six people on the other side of the window.

Dr. Edwin Jenner was extremely good at convincing most people to do what he wanted. He generally threw around enough scientific jargon that left the head of whomever he was speaking with in such a tailspin that there was nothing to do but acquiesce. When that didn't work with the woman standing in front of him, he played her emotions like an old school banjo. And, to his credit, if one didn't work, then the other usually did. — _No. You_ _ **do**_ _ **not**_ _get off that easy_ –

"Neither of us even _began_ to consider what our actions could mean to Rick Grimes' life, much less anyone who happened to be in the vicinity when we brought him here. You were only interested in seeing if you could do it, and I…" she stopped.

"We can't change any of that now. And, I'm not saying that we lie…just be mindful of what we say," his tone was quiet and measured.

"Fine. We can do that," she glanced back at the non-consenting experiment participants on the other side of the glass before looking back at her friend and co-conspirator, "and just in case they have no memory of anything, we need to come up with a truthful explanation of why they're here."

"If they don't remember why they're here, then the explanation doesn't have to be completely truthful," he attempted a smile while also offering a slight shrug.

"Edwin…" Jacqui responded, more playful and much less dire.

"Don't look at me like that," his face much more relaxed, "I'm only saying that we do what I said initially and follow their lead."

The original bodies of Jacqui Stone and Edwin Jenner were blown up in a world where the dead returned as monsters whose only desire was to feast on the living. They woke up in this alternate universe three years ago with full knowledge of their original world. Dr. Jenner continued his research work with the government, though he made sure to steer all of their findings away from the virus that had killed his world. Jacqui was working for a non-profit educational center when the wary doctor showed up at her door.

They bonded over memories that no one else had. Given the desire to feel less lost and more connected to this new world, the odd doctor and the no-nonsense community activist, became allies. They lamented over shared memories and unforgiving nightmares that only they could understand. Nightmares that no one in 'this' world could even begin to comprehend; including his wife, and her boyfriend at the time.

He posed the idea of working to re-create the molecular displacement accelerator, never truly considering the possible ramifications. His scientific mind drove him. Her guilt over surviving when all her friends and family had died drove her. Initially, she was not much more than a willing assistant; the only assistant that knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that multi-dimensional travel does exist.

Every free moment they had was spent in the lab. Weeks turned into months, and months turned into three years. During that time, mostly spent alone-together in the lab, they became friends. It was a friendship that would've seemed odd to most. It was, however, a real friendship born out of a past that only they shared.

They discussed everything from family, friends and their love lives, to movies, politics, and society's ills. They didn't socialize at backyard bar-b-que's or birthday parties, but they were friends none-the-less. He was who she turned to when she decided to open a domestic violence shelter. _"I couldn't save anyone in that world, but maybe I can save Carol, and other women, in this one…"_ is what she'd told him.

And now, they were two individuals with widely different backgrounds, who'd become intimate confidants. They cared for and trusted each other. They had a shared secret. It was a secret that she saw when she looked at the six people waking in the adjacent room. The connection she had with Edwin is the same one she saw with them. Or at least it was the connection they had when they arrived into 'this' world. They found their way to each other; the same way she and Edwin found their way to each other when they arrived.

 _I wonder if_ _ **they'll**_ _have that connection. Or any connection at all for that matter._ She stared at Edwin for moments while her thoughts ran rampant…

 _"I don't know if we'll make it back in time to fight, or if we'll make it back at all. We probably won't all survive even if we do make it back. But—I just want you guys to know that you mean the world to me…You're the loves of my life."_ Was what Carol said before they left. _What an amazing admission. They really loved each other._

An unexpected swell came over her at the thought of them. She breathed deep as her friend watched her, "…I understand what you're sayin', and what you're not sayin'…"

"Fine…then we're on the same page, right?" It was more of a statement than a question.

She took her time before answering. He was incredibly adept at trying to rush her into decisions he was sure she'd make…eventually.

"O-okay," she said cautiously, "but don't try'ta B.S. me with your goofy charm. We pay attention to them," she took another moment to breathe deep, "And then we give them whatever information they'll need to be okay. We don't treat them like lab rats. They don't deserve that."

"Fine…but…"

"But what, Edwin?" She sighed through pursed lips.

He plunged his hands deeper into the large pockets of his lab coat and leaned forward, "But…they may never be fine again. I…I just want you to be ready for that."

Silence overtook the room again as the two redirected their focus on the colorful crew on the white tile. Rick Grimes had also begun to stir. Maggie Greene moved her hand to her face and was lightly coughing. Daryl Dixon was beginning to blink and move his legs.

"Looks like times up," Jacqui motioned to Daryl, "we'd better get in there."

Dr. Jenner nodded without speaking and turned to walk towards the glass service door. Jacqui followed close behind.

"Oh, Edwin, hold on a second," she said just as he was opening the door. He stopped and turned to face her.

x-x-x

"We need to be careful. Uh, there's no telling how angry they'll be," she pointed to his face where Maggie Greene had slapped him less than forty-eight hours earlier.

When Dr. Jenner explained everything that had led the group to this world, and more importantly, his part in it, he was met with various degrees of anger. Maggie was the only one to physically strike him, but there was no mistaking the murderous stares he got from Daryl, Rick, and Rosita Espinosa.

"These aren't those people, remember?" He said with a raised eye brow and a small smirk.

The women's advocate, who often doubled as an enthusiastic lab assistant, understood their anger. The band of fighters somehow managed to survive a hellish world. These were not the type of people who would trust a stranger. She understood their suspicion. Being zapped into a different world, without consent, and told that it was done on purpose would garner rage in the kindest of pacifists; but _these were people who had probably killed the living, as well as the dead, in order to survive._

The fact that these travelers were unwilling to believe, or accept, that there was nothing nefarious involved in hers or her friend's actions made perfect sense. It still unnerved her though. Having so many disapproving and distrustful eyes staring at the two of them had been unsettling. _The only people who usually look at me with hostility are City Council members who I'm fighting on a local government level for more domestic violence shelters._

 _Maybe Edwin's actions were not quite as altruistic as mines were, but it doesn't make him a bad man. There's nothing wrong with a scientist wanting to look for the answers that exists in the universe. He's not a bad guy and he doesn't deserve to be attacked_ – she kept her thoughts to herself.

"You're so god damned smug sometimes. I know they're not the same people, but it doesn't mean that they won't be just as angry. Maybe even angrier. I mean, they've had other people living in their bodies. They might be more than just a little pissed…" she shook her head, staring beyond her own words.

He removed his hand from the door, "You're right. What do you suggest?" His eyes narrowed slightly as he waited for her to suggest something.

"I don't know. I think it'll make things worse if we go in there with any kind of weapon. We just need to be on alert. Maybe…um, keep our distance as much as possible, especially as we answer their questions."

"That sounds like a good idea," he said.

"Daryl seemed to be very protective of all of them, especially Carol. I don't know about this Daryl, but it's probably a good idea to watch his reaction as we answer questions. If the women get really upset or emotional, it might set him off."

" _This_ Daryl may not be anything like the other one. You said it yourself."

"I know," she looked over at the man in question as he struggled to sit up, "which might be even worse. The Daryl I knew was distant, and a loner. His brother Merle was a definite racist. But…I don't know about him…"

"We'll be careful with him. I'm actually more concerned with Rick Grimes. Sheriff's Deputy Rick Grimes," he countered with a deep sigh.

Jacqui nodded in agreement.

"I have no idea what his reaction will be," he continued, "they may not remember everything, but I think we can both agree that they'll remember _some_ things…" he sighed, put his hands in his jacket pockets and stepped closer to Jacqui… "he's like the living embodiment of an adult boy scout. Married his high school sweetheart, does volunteer work in his community, never once had any of his arrests challenged, people love him," he dryly chuckled, "He's never even cheated on his taxes…"

They both looked over at the deputy, he was beginning to move as well.

"And it's doubtful that he ever cheated on his wife," Jacqui added, coming to the end of the road that Edwin was driving on.

"Exactly. I think we can both agree that the Rick Grimes from our original world was…is, deeply in love with Michelle Onette."

"Yeah," she agreed, "the way they were holding onto each other…the way they looked at each other…" she paused and stared off into a place where longing and unfulfilled dreams live in limbo.

He offered her a smile, "Right. There's no doubt that they…well…"

"Uh-huh…I'm sure they did," she agreed.

"How do you think the boy scout will react once he remembers that he cheated on his wife?"

"He didn't actu—"

"I know it wasn't actually him, Jacqui. I'm not talking semantics. I'm talking about what he'll think," his voice rose slightly, "and what about her. A straight-shooting attorney with a long-term boyfriend. She's never even gotten a speeding ticket."

When Jenner realized that the molecular displacement accelerator had worked, he and Jacqui set out to swiftly locate their target – Rick Grimes. They followed the movements of the deputy from the moment blips on the screen stopped bouncing. By the time the other world survivors were meeting in the diner they had done as much research as the internet and a few extra dollars would provide. Michelle Onette, referred to as Michonne by most of her friends and family, was the female version of Deputy Grimes. A thirty-two-year-old girl scout with a law degree.

"You remember how you explained all of this to them…" Jacqui said.

"… _The you_ _that existed here in this dimension…they're still here. They went into something like a deep sleep and only their memories stayed behind. Periodically there are flutters and they awaken. That's when you have the sense of being watched. Your thoughts, feelings, emotions and memories came with you." The remorseful doctor had explained._

"…maybe _**they**_ ," she pointed into the room at a slowly awakening Rick Grimes, and a completely unconscious Michelle Onette, "were in sleep mode when _**they**_ …" she pointed up towards the stars, "were intimate," she offered a half-smile.

"Hopefully you're right. I _am_ concerned about how she'll take it. But, honestly, I'm a little more concerned about the one who has a license to carry a firearm," he said with a light tension cutting chuckle.

They both laughed, interjecting a lightness into the room. She squeezed his shoulder.

"You know what's really funny about that?" She asked.

"No, what?"

"It's not really funny, but I was thinking about it, especially when I saw him with Ms. Onette," she stared into the past that existed far beyond the see-through room, "We both figure that he's probably never cheated on anything, especially his wife. I hadn't thought about in in so long…."

She lowered her voice as if she was telling a secret in a room full of nosey high schoolers, "I knew his wife, Lori, before I ever met him. We met him on a run into Atlanta. His wife, son, and best friend Shane thought he was dead…"

"I know, Jacqui. You've told me this before," he impatiently interrupted, glancing into the room. There was increased movement from those laid out on the bleached flooring.

"Hear me out," she placed her hand on his chest and continued, "what I never mentioned is that she began a relationship with Shane. No one said anything, but we all knew. Her husband hadn't been dead, or at least they hadn't thought he was dead, for even a month…from what I can remember…" she paused, gathering her thoughts.

"…And then they were reunited. Which was almost like a miracle…that he found them. But, after the initial joy of being reunited, they seemed to be distant. I guess, it makes sense…she _was_ having sex with his best friend…"

"It was the end of the world. Rules are different…"

"Are they? They weren't for you," she refocused her attention on the exasperated doctor, "were you thinking of having sex with someone after Candace died?"

"You know the answer to that," he grumbled unenthusiastically.

"And that's the point I'm trying to make. I'm not judging her…per se," she sighed, "I don't know. My long-winded point is that maybe he won't be as angry as we think. The world had to end before he found the _real_ love of his life," she shrugged…

"Hmm," was his only response as he processed this new information.

"It's almost inconceivable that the they all managed to find each other. He found someone and fell in love. Carol got strong. Daryl became a protector," she smiled, _who would've thought that brooding-mumbling-redneck would turn out to be decent—and a protector,_ "As horrible as that world is…and they all found love and purpose. They found their best selves. It's crazy…"

"That _is_ something," Edwin agreed quietly, as he appeared to reflect on a world he'd tried to forget.

"I wish that they'd trusted us enough to tell us about their lives. How they found each other. What they've been through. How he came to look at Michelle like she's a star from the heavens. And she came to look at him like he hung the moon in those heavens…"

She waited until Edwin looked her in the eyes before she continued.

"…I chose to die that day in the lab because I thought that the world was over. I thought that love could no longer exist. That the only thing that existed was death. Including the death of marriage." She exhaled, "He and Lori only confirmed that for me…"

"Jac…"

"…But…he did find love. _They_ found love. I…I just never would've thought that anything good like love and new life could exist in all that. I gave up. Maybe if…" all the remorse that she'd tucked away, along with the regret, finally bubbled up.

"You have to stop kicking yourself for the choice you made that day," he rested his hand on her arm, "It's the question that haunts everyone at one time or another. The age-old question. What if I'd taken another door? Done one thing different. You can't live in the what ifs."

Edwin, her very unlikely friend, wrapped her in his awkward bear hug, "I only hope that their baby and Glenn's baby survives…and thrives," she whispered.

After a few seconds she backed up and touched his scruffy face, "C'mon, let's get in there. We'll play it by ear, okay," she said. He nodded his response.

They turned and entered the glass cage. The chamber was colder and much more sterile than the connecting lab. The two hesitant observers approached the group. Dr. Jenner guardedly walked towards Daryl; having finally made it to the sitting position. Jacqui approached Rosita. She bent down to assist the pretty Latina in her struggle to sit. Peripherally she saw Deputy Grimes fight his way to consciousness. With his eyes still closed, he reached over and, _unconsciously_ , placed his hand on Michelle Onette's leg. The grown up girl scout finally began to move.

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A/N: Thank you for reading. I appreciate any and all reviews. Blessings...


	3. Her Observations

A/N: Thank you for all the reviews, follows and favorites. I'm very appreciative. For those who have asked both in the reviews and direct messages, this is a Richonne story. The story will be told from various points of view, but primarily from Rick's and Michonne's POV''s. This chapter picks up immediately after Chapter 1. Please enjoy.

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 **Chapter 2 – Her Observations**

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"Jacqui."

She looked away from Rosita and glanced over at Edwin.

"Yes," she replied.

"I'll keep an eye on them and monitor their breathing. Why don't you grab some of those folding chairs from the utility closet?"

Always the dutiful assistant when required, she stood up straight from her leaning position, "Uh, okay. Be right back."

She quickly rushed towards the door. The click-clack of her heels on the tile floor echoed through the empty office that doubled as a lab- _Edwin has no bedside manner. I'd better get back in there_. She picked up her speed. The utility closet was down the hallway near the front entrance of the building. After placing two folding chairs under one arm, and two identical chairs under the other, she exited the room. Swiftly kicking the door shut with her foot, she hastened her speed towards the lab and chamber- _we'll just have to use a couple of office chairs from the office for the rest-_ she released a breath, holding tight to the slipping objects in her arms.

The chamber came into view. Edwin was keeping his distance from Daryl; who was sitting up and coughing. Rosita was in the lotus position with one hand covering her forehead and the other resting on her chest. Maggie was cradling her legs with her head resting on her knees. As she got closer to the see-through chamber, she could also see Rick groggily pushing himself up. Both Carol and Michelle were still laying on their sides.

Jacqui adjusted the chairs in her arms and manipulated the door handle. Edwin was still standing in the same spot; much like the proverbial deer in headlights.

The door closed as she walked in, "Edwin…can you help me with these?" She tilted her head towards the chairs in her right hand; still catching her breath.

"Sure," he said walking towards her. They opened the chairs and sat them in a semi-circle near their sedentary guests.

"Wha…what…where are…" Daryl stuttered, coughing out his words. Edwin stepped closer to him. Jacqui could see the doctor's hesitation to touch the barely coherent man.

"Take it easy," Edwin recommended from a safe distance.

"Let me go grab some bottles of water for them," Jacqui said as she quickly rushed out and grabbed bottles from the small refrigerator in the outer office. She also picked up a clipboard, notepad, and pen. In less than sixty seconds she was back in the glass room. She placed a bottle of water in Daryl's hands, Rosita's hands, and leaned over to put a bottle on the floor next to Maggie; her hands were gripped tightly around her knees.

Rosita mumbled, "Que…esta pasa…? What's…what's going on?" Pausing to look around, "what's going on? Where are we?" Her voice began to rise. Her eyes grew wide as she began to glance around the room.

Jacqui looked at Edwin with a ' _what do we say_ ' question on her face. His blank ' _not sure what the hell to say_ ' facial response was her answer.

Walking closer to the first member of the group who was completely conscious, "Let us help you into a chair," Jacqui offered as she and Edwin assisted a light-weight Rosita into the closest chair.

"Um…thank you," a woozy Rosita said apprehensively.

The two observers then helped Daryl into the chair nearest him. He muttered something unintelligible. His inebriated like state did not allow him to put up the fight that she was sure he intended.

"Fu—fuuck," _definitely understood that_ \- she almost laughed at _this_ Daryl being _the_ Daryl she remembered; even in his half-sleep state.

"Where are we?" Maggie asked in a very clear southern accent from the floor, "what's goin' on?"

Jacqui walked away from Daryl and closer to the southern belle.

"Ms. Greene, let us help you up. I know this is weird," Dr. Jenner, finally snapping out of the silent mode, said. Jacqui winked at him, thankful that he was finally found his voice. The two lifted the young brunette into an awaiting chair. Edwin placed the water bottle she'd dropped back into her hands and watched her as she took a big gulp.

A barrage of questions, that were becoming more lucid by the minute, began to be hurled at them from the three awake and individuals.

 _Who are you? What is this place? Where are we? Are we being held hostage?_

"We'll answer all your questions," Dr. Jenner said, raising his hands to stop the avalanche of questions.

The atmosphere in the room had grown cool and tense. "Yes. We will," Jacqui concurred, "please stay calm," she asked.

"Ja—Jacqui. Is that you?" Carol asked, struggling to sit.

Jacqui met Carol, _the other Carol_ , in the world that she wanted so desperately to forget. They were a small group of strangers who set up a camp in the mountains just outside Atlanta in the post-apocalyptic universe. Carol was a nice lady but suffered from one of the worst cases of battered women's syndrome that Jacqui had ever seen. Her husband Ed was a horribly angry man. Even after Shane beat him nearly to death, it didn't stop him from being an ass; or Carol from explaining away his brutal actions.

When Jacqui woke up in this new world, and re-connected with Edwin, the only thing she wanted to do was figure out how to help women like Carol. Edwin helped her purchase the domestic abuse center. She located the Carol Peletier of her new world. After recruiting Joan Perry to run the shelter, she ensured that Joan hired Carol.

Jacqui always kept her distance from Carol; the mildly skittish, and rightfully untrusting, battered wife.

"Uh, yes, Carol. It's me." She walked over to the thin middle-aged woman and assisted her into the chair.

"Let me help," Edwin offered, lending a hand that was no longer needed; Carol was already seated.

She peered at her friend, "I got it Doctor, why don't you help Deputy Grimes," she pointed at the deputy in question as he was now sitting up with his hands over his eyes.

"Uh—um…" he was momentarily frozen.

She gave him the side-eye stare that he'd been on the receiving end of for most of their friendship/alliance, "Go on. I've got her. Why don't you roll the office chairs in here?"

Managing to shake himself from his temporary state of inactivity, "Okay," he said, making a quick trek to the door. He returned with rolling office chairs; leaving one next to the slowly awakening attorney, and one next to the deputy.

Rick stumbled forward as the doctor assisted him into the chair. After the deputy was seated, the doctor then bent down to lock the wheels—preventing the chair from rolling.

"Uh…what…what is this? Where…" Jacqui turned towards the soft voice coming from the floor- _so you're up now._ She leaned down over a slow-moving Michonne- _this should be interesting. Rick seemed to reach for you in his unconscious state. Hmm, wonder what he'll do…_

"Edwin. Let's get her into a seat," Jacqui recommended amid the rising grumbles in the room. They assisted the counselor into the last vacant seat in the chamber. She watched as Michonne scanned the room and its occupants with confusion etched on her face.

On the other side of the semi-circle a voice rose above the incoherent grumbles…"Oh my go…" Rosita stopped mid-sentence; her eyes wide and bewildered. Everyone directed their attention towards her. Jacqui could see that she was remembering. Or maybe just trying to figure something out.

"Ms. Espinosa. Do you remember something?" Jacqui hungrily inquired - _hopefully we can find out exactly what you know._ She walked over to Rosita and reached for her hand. The young woman snatched her hand away and placed it on her lap.

"I'm sorry," Jacqui said, withdrawing her hand, "I didn't mean to overstep. Is there something you remembered?"

She gingerly backed up, giving the apprehensive woman some space.

"I—I remember looking out over the ocean. I was on an airplane. I—don't really remember landing, but I think I…" she again stopped, closing her eyes and sighing deeply.

Jacqui studied the faces of the six people. They all looked like reluctant participants in some type of sleep deprivation study. Their expressions ranged from confusion to anger.

"Tell us where we are," the deputy said while looking around the room, "and how the _Hell_ did we get here?"

"Exactly. Where are we? Are we being held hostage?" Maggie asked with increasing angst; her southern hospitality nearly gone.

"No. No. You're not hostages," Jacqui assured looking around the room. All six of the previously lifeless guests were now completely alert and growing extremely agitated. She looked at Edwin hoping that her eyes could speak the words- _Now is the time. Say something you coward._

The doctor breathed deep before responding, "Jacqui is right. You're not hostages."

"Who are you and where are we?" Rosita's voice was raised and her jaws mildly clenched, "Why was I on an airplane?"

"My name is Dr. Edwin Jenner, and this is Jacqui Stone," he motioned to his friend and assistant, "We're in my lab in downtown Atlanta, Georgia."

"Atlanta?" Rosita quietly questioned. Taken aback. Her anxiety level appeared to dissipate as she processed this new information.

"How did we get here?" Michelle, also known as Michonne, asked hesitantly.

"I don't remember coming here." Carol said, looking directly at the only person in the room that she knew. "Jacqui, what's going on?"

"It's okay Carol. I promise you haven't been harmed in any way."

"I'm glad you can make promises. But you still haven't told us anythan'," there was no more down home genteelness remaining in Maggie's tone or her glare.

 _Apparently the southern belle is gone. Now we meet the straight up country girl_ – Jacqui attempted a soft smile.

"Uh…" Michonne bit her lip and began fiddling with her necklace pendant, "Eyes…" Jacqui heard her whisper.

Maggie reached over and touched the other woman's arm, "Are you okay," she asked softly; regaining her genteel nature.

Michonne nodded in the affirmative while staring at the blank white wall. They all watched her. Rick's stare was different- _He's just noticed her. Almost like he's looking to her for some kind of answer_. _What are you thinking?_ Jacqui glanced back at the group attempting not to look as frazzled as she was quickly becoming.

Though they all seemed to be riled up, none had yet attempted to bolt out of the room- _that must mean something._

Over the next ten minutes or so, Doctor Jenner kept his answers vague and non-descript. Jacqui brought in two more chairs. They sat while their six guests shared their splintered memories.

"I remember going on the computer and looking up information on…you," Carol looked at Rick. They made eye contact. Her eyes held a question. His blue eyes stared into her gray ones with no answer go give. "Why was I searching for you?" She asked.

He didn't answer.

"I went to…um…I think it was your garage. You're a…a mechanic? But how…have we met?" Michonne appeared to grow frustrated as the memories that made no logical sense materialized in her head.

Daryl stared glassy-eyed without answering.

The doctor listened with purpose. Jacqui took notes as most of the unwitting-allies spoke. From what she managed to deduce, the strongest memories they had were from the first two days of the _survivor's_ arrival in this world. After that, their memories were blurred.

They each seemed to be struggling to uncover the memories of the past few days. The inner turmoil seemed to make a few of them angry…

"What the Hell is this?" Daryl and Rosita seethed in different ways as they fought for recall.

Carol and Maggie were more introspective and inquisitive with their questioning, "You said its Sunday…where have we been for the last…uh…three days?"

Michonne attempted to come up with answers, "Do we have D.I.D?" she asked, "Is that what this is?"

"What's D.I.D?" Maggie turned to face the gentle speaking woman.

"It stands for Dissociative Identity Disorder. They used to call it Multiple Personality Disorder…or a split personality. There was a litigant in a case I was involved in a few years ago who suffered from it—or at least the doctor said he did," she responded.

"Well I ain't got no damn disorder. That sounds like some bullshit doctors say when they can't explain somethin'," Daryl spat, shaking his head in frustration.

"You're probably right, Mr….uh…"

"It's Daryl. Just Daryl," he said, answering her unasked question.

"Nice to meet you…again I guess," he stumbled over his words, Miss…?"

"Michelle Onette. But Michonne is fine. Just Michonne." She smiled, causing him to smile- _despite himself_.

The able-bodied assistant watched their interaction- _Without trying she managed to soften him- It's almost like they have some connection that neither are aware of. Well I'll be damned. They don't consciously know each other but they remember seeking each other out. Hmm._

Ignoring the surly mechanic, Dr. Jenner focused his attention on the attorney, "I'm impressed with your knowledge."

"It's not a big leap. We're all missing time," she directed her words to Daryl with a soft smile, "We have memories of doing things, but we don't know why…it's kinda textbook…" her eyes drifted upwards as her words abruptly ended.

The room was quiet as everyone appeared to consider this new information. Jacqui observed the individuals in the room as they each seemed to process the ramifications if this theory proved true.

Deputy Grimes, officer of the law, remained mostly silent. He appeared to be sizing up everyone in the room and putting together the pieces of the puzzle he'd been unintentionally given to decipher.

It was as if they had all been in a fog for the last couple of days. Their memories were hazy and disjointed. But the more they talked, the more they seemed to connect dots. These were dots that neither she nor Edwin really wanted them to connect.

 _Misdirection is really the only option_. She sighed.

The Sheriff Deputy's southern drawl was heavy; his tone measured when he spoke, "We've been tellin' you what we remember. Tryin' to fill in the holes in our memories, and you've only givin' us vague replies. It's time to start explainin' what this is all about." He kept eye contact with the doctor, tilting his head slightly, leaving no room for discussion.

Jacqui glanced over to Edwin. She expected him to look frazzled and ready to run for the hills, but what she saw was just the opposite.

Without missing a beat, "I, along with some of my colleagues, have been working on a project regarding trauma. It specifically deals with the healthy integration of long-term grief. Each of you, over the past year, has completed questionnaires or applications which indicated a desire for therapy…"

"That's bullshit!" Daryl snapped loudly with his fist balled, "I ain't never signed up for therapy."

"Actually Mr. Dixon," the doctor looked at the angry mechanic, "You completed a form for your new doctor a few months ago. On the form you indicated past trauma. HIPPA laws, which are your rights to privacy, do not allow us to get the exact information that you indicated. Most medical professionals use specific programs to assist their patients. That material is put into onsite databases. The information is compiled and uploaded to a central database…" he took a deep breath before continuing.

"…An algorithm that we created to group certain answers is how we located you all. You fit the criteria." He scanned the faces of all the group members.

"This is some real Big Brother shit right here," Rosita stated, waving her hand at the doctor dismissively. The others nodded their agreement.

The doctor continued, "After the information was compiled, the program selected the right candidates for the study. The program sends out a simple message. A wave, per se, that is sent to mobile phones. It's a subliminal message that makes you feel less stress. Like affirmations or messages of self empowerment. Emails were sent out to those who qualify. Once the email was opened, gentle messages were mailed."

 _Stroke of genius_. Jacqui grinned to herself. _Who would've thought that idiotic study would come in handy_? About a year ago, a group of scientific researchers' came together to work on ways to combat the effects of both diagnosed and undiagnosed trauma in veterans. The Department of Defense, in connection with the CDC and the Surgeon General of the United States, commissioned the study. Dr. Jenner was invited, along with around one hundred other scientists, to take part in the study. Each doctor was given money to conduct their own experiments. Bi-monthly symposiums were where all findings were presented. _The Shock Study_ that he just told the group of six aboutwas one of the many studies that the scientists had fleshed out. It was an actual program. It was at least three years away from being tested on people- _No reason you guys need to know that._ Her grin became a knowing smile.

"Are you kidding? You got into our heads and sent us messages. There's no way that's legal," Michonne said emphatically, voicing the growing irritation in the room.

"That's right," Maggie agreed.

"Actually Miss Onette, it is quite legal. We followed a very strict protocol."

"Maybe it's legal. There's no way it's ethical," Rick said glancing over to Michonne. She looked at him for only a second before looking back at the doctor.

"That's right. First do no harm. Right?" Michonne added.

Carol raised her hand, _years of primary and secondary school conditioning_ , before lowering it and speaking, "Um, that doesn't explain why you're here Jacqui. How are you connected to this?"

She'd lectured Edwin about being honest to these people. Truth was the way to go, and yet, the lies flowed out of her easier than water from a faucet, "I met Dr. Jenner when he joined the Board of Directors for the Women's Shelter. He had the same drive that I did to assist families who had been affected by abuse. When I found out about this project I was excited. I minored in Psychology, so assisting the team was a perfect fit. He and the others wanted to help people who were struggling with varying degrees of trauma…" she smiled broadly to convey her excitement. She'd never been a liar. But maybe after three years of either lying or omitting the truth from everyone in her life, lying became easy. _Even when I hadn't planned on lying, that's exactly what I did_. _Is it okay if I lie now and tell you the truth later?_

"You didn't have a right to do this without getting our permission," Maggie said.

The smile dropped from Jacqui's face. She humbly slumped her shoulders to convey her regret and drive home the lie; giving it just that much more sincerity.

"You're right. However, the questionnaires and applications that you filled out did give us permission. Maybe you didn't realize it. For that we _are_ sorry. But this study will help a lot of people. Including you."

"You really don't know what kind of damage you may have done to us," Rick directed to both the doctor and his assistant.

"That's right. What if we'd killed someone? Or committed some other kind of crime," Rosita chimed in with more than a little indignation.

"I assure you that there was no damage and you committed no crimes." The doctor looked away from Rick and directed his words to Rosita, "Ms. Espinosa, you did spend money on an airline ticket. Our team will replace that money and any other monies you used over the past four days."

"Nothin' you've said explains why we went in search…uh…" he glanced over to Michonne. She kept her eyes faced-forward, "in search of each other."

 _Clearly you didn't earn your promotion as Section Chief just because you're good looking_. _How do we explain that?_ The quandary went through her head quickly. Edwin stared at the deputy without answering. _Damn frightened deer all over again_.

"We believe it's a glitch in the program," she spoke getting Rick's attention and hopefully taking the spotlight off of the flummoxed doctor, "It's one of the things that Doctor Jenner and the others are working on." She smiled before continuing…

"We realize that you all are confused and missing certain memories. But be honest with yourselves for just a moment. Even though you feel confused and skeptical, don't you have a feeling of being connected? Isn't there a weight that seems somehow lifted from you? You can't put your finger on it, but it's there." _-I can tell you're connected to each other. Of course it has nothing to do with some idiotic study. It's works out though._ She retained the deceptively kind smile.

x-x-x

Thirty minutes of going back and forth with the questions and answers. Each of the six unwitting participants threw out the questions; she and Edwin batted them back with reasonable answers. The group of six drifted to the opposite side of the glass chamber. They were whispering. It's clear that whatever they _really_ remembered, would not be shared with the two of them. The other thing that seemed quite clear is that Rick was leading their discussion. He was their leader in the other world. Apparently that was the case in this world as well.

"Have you noticed that Rick is doing most of the talking?" Edwin whispered while keeping his eye on the group.

"Yes. He's been sizing us up. Especially you."

The two conductors of the experiment stood like away from the small group. _They're acting like we're some kinda evil co-conspirators. Feels like we've been exiled to the other side of the island. Do they know we're lying?_

"I could see that too," he quietly agreed, "It makes sense. He's been trained in detecting lies and finding truth."

"When did you come up with The Study idea?" The question had a tinge of disapproval as she twisted her lips. She wasn't thrilled that he hadn't shared the plan for the elaborate lie beforehand.

"It wasn't something that I had completely worked through. I thought that they would remember everything. When they didn't…well, it just came to me. They just needed some kind of explanation. One that makes sense. We did enough research on each of them. I had a feeling that everything that we found out about them would pay off. What I told them is not that farfetched. Why ruin _our_ lives if we don't have to?" He posed with a shoulder shrug.

"You almost had _me_ convinced."

"Like I said…it's a plausible explanation. Thank goodness they've all had therapy. Or need therapy," he half smiled at his own words.

"So cynical Edwin," she crinkled her nose and shook her head.

He shrugged in response.

"Well, I just hope you didn't make things worse. If I'm right, they're not telling us everything they remember."

He frowned, not agreeing with her assessment, "Seems like they've been forthcoming. Without even realizing it."

His brand of smugness frustrated her. He was self-congratulating like a child who's gotten away with the cookies from the forbidden cookie jar.

She scoffed, "Don't be so sure. Did you notice how Michelle…Michonne," she corrected, "won't look Rick in the face. She's purposely looking at anyone, anything, other than him. And yet, he keeps staring at her. I think he's trying to remember something. To figure out something," she slyly glanced at the group, "I think that maybe she's already remembered something. Maybe everything. She has a good poker face…but it doesn't translate to her body language. He also keeps twisting his wedding band."

Once everyone was seated and coherent, Jacqui began paying more attention to the movements of the group that were not conscious of. Carol, like many abused women who spent years hiding the abuse, had always been very private. She kept her feelings close to the vest. But this Carol was different. She smiled gently while sitting next to these people who ' _should've_ ' been strangers to her. There was a softness in her eyes as she listened to Rosita and Daryl get angry. At one point, she reached over and touched Rosita's leg. It happened so fast. Without any words spoken, she calmed down. Daryl seemed to pick up on this que and also calmed down.

Maggie went from inquisitive and confused to what could only be characterized as sad. Almost as if sensing the sadness of the young southern belle, Michonne reached over and rubbed her back. It was when Jacqui noticed Michonne very subtly button the top two buttons on her blouse and shift in her seat- turning her body towards Maggie ( _who sat to her right_ ), and away from Rick ( _who sat to her left_ ) that she knew they weren't telling her and Edwin everything that they remembered.

Jacqui made notes of what they said; putting times and places into chronological order. She also made notes of their subtle movements. The lines that she underlined in triplicate simply stated – _On a subconscious level they remember the past few days. They are connected to one another without consciously realizing it. Some part of the survivors was left behind. Further investigation._

"No. I hadn't noticed. I _have_ noticed how they kept pulling back their words. Very nebulous."

"I saw that too. They definitely remember more than they've said," she concurred, "what if they go to the authorities?"

"Honestly, I doubt that they will. You said it yourself. Rick has become their leader…of sorts. And I don't think he'll want anyone to know that he cheated on his wife. He's in line for the top job in the Sheriff's Department. He's a shoe in from what we gathered. Letting people know that he's susceptible to subliminal messaging would ruin him. Same with Michelle Onette. Who would want an attorney that can't even recall her whereabouts from the past few days? And cheating on her long-term boyfriend with a married cop won't go over well either..."

He glanced over at the whispering group, "Maggie Greene is a teacher. I imagine the school district wouldn't be too thrilled with having someone in the classroom who left herself open to psychological manipulation. Carol is already on thin ice when it comes to getting full custody of her daughter. She definitely won't want anyone to know about this. Rosita Espinosa works for a government agency. She's trained to keep secrets. Plus, flying across the country with no good reason would undoubtedly ruin her career too. The only one who really has nothing to lose is Daryl Dixon…"

"He's less likely than all of 'em to tell," Jacqui chimed in unprompted, "His is about ego. Guys like Daryl don't do therapy. They certainly don't want anyone to know that they signed up for it. Even if he actually didn't," this was not the road that the willing assistant and women's advocated wanted to be on, but she'd taken to it like a champ.

"Exactly. And if they do remember…well, that would be even worse for them. Trying to convince people that their bodies were taken over by visitors for another universe…" he lifted his chin, giving her his enigmatic smile.

"All of this just feels…"

"I know Jac," he reached over and rubbed her arm, stopping at her elbow, "but this is for the best."

"You don't have to be so damn happy about it though. Your ability to compartmentalize and tendency towards extreme conflation is somewhat worrisome." She said the words. Oddly enough, it wasn't worrisome in the way it should've been.

"I'm not. We're just doing what we need to do in…"

He stopped mid-sentence; his eyes grew wide. Jacqui sensed the movement in the room. She turned to see why Edwin stopped speaking. They both smiled as the group approached.

"I'm, um, glad that you all had an opportunity to speak…without us watching you," she laughed softly at her attempt at levity. Their faces remained stoic.

"Thank you for giving us the time," Rick said, his expression aloof, "we appreciate it."

"Of course," the doctor said in his most confident tone.

"Were you able to remember anything else?" Jacqui asked the question that she already knew the answer to. Yes, they remembered things that they had not shared- at least not with her and the doctor. And No, they would not tell the truth about what they'd remembered. Their guards were up and the only people in the room that they trusted were each other.

"Unfortunately not," Carol said looking directly into Jacqui's eyes- _Lie straight to my face. Wow. Turnabouts fair play I guess._

"Your memories will probably come back slowly. How are you all feeling?" Dr. Jenner inquired.

"Fine. I think we all feel fine." Rosita spoke for everyone.

"Miss Espinosa. I know you're not from here. Do you need us to assist you with housing until you're able to get a flight home?"

"She'll be fine," Michonne spoke up protectively, "She'll stay at my place until she leaves."

All four of the women smiled at each other. It was as if they were sharing a private secret- _Dammit. I wish I could read your minds._

x-x-x

Dr. Jenner and Jacqui Stone walked the six 'program participants' down the hall and opened the service door. It was dark outside as a warm breeze washed over them. The only cars in the parking lot were Edwin's SUV, a red BMW 3351 Coupe and a Pontiac Trans Am. She knew that the Pontiac was Daryl's car and the BMW was Michonne's. It was information they'd found out easily when they'd conducted their research into the lives of the six individuals.

"Hopefully you all will be able to return next week." Dr. Jenner said cautiously, "I know you each have reservations, but I can assure you that this is really a worthwhile program. Your help would be invaluable. And of course, Miss Espinosa, we can conduct your meeting over Skype if you've already gone back to Los Angeles."

They each responded with various head nods and mumbles. None gave a definitive answer.

"Have a good evening." Jacqui said as they walked towards the two vehicles.

Beeps sounded from both vehicles as the car lights flashed; turning off alarms and unlocking doors. Daryl got into the driver's seat of his Pontiac. Carol got into the passenger seat and Maggie got into the back seat.

Rick opened the driver's side door of the BMW for Michonne- _she still won't look him in his face. Looks like she said, 'Thank you.'_ He then opened the door for Rosita before getting into the passenger seat. The engine started for both cars and within seconds they were exiting the lot.

"Hmm. That's interesting," she chuckled sardonically, mostly to herself.

Edwin turned to face her, "What's so interesting?"

"I was looking at the monitor when they arrived. Watching the parking lot. The camera shows the entire lot," she narrowed her eyes and exhaled, "It didn't seem interesting, or worth noting at the time..."

"What?" His curiosity was now peeked.

"...That Carol and Maggie rode with Daryl. Or that Rick and Rosita rode with Michelle. But now it is interesting…and worth noting…that they're leaving in the exact same cars that they arrived in," she watched the self-congratulating doctors face drop as she posed the question…

"…How did they know?"

* * *

Author's Note: Up next we'll get to know the six participants. Thanks again for reading. Reviews are truly appreciated. Blessings...


	4. Chapter 3 - Section Chief, Rick Grimes

A/N: Lots to unpack in this super long chapter. Let's get to it shall we. Please enjoy.

* * *

 **Chapter 3 – Interim Section Chief, Rick Grimes**

 _What's going on?_ He felt too groggy to verbalize his thoughts. A jarring array of colors swirled in his brain. The light was both comforting and disturbing. He had an overwhelming need to escape. His concept of time was skewed. _How long have I been here?_ The whirling hues slowly settled. He was gradually coming into consciousness.

His body felt stiff. The pounding in his head didn't allow for relaxation. Blinking his eyes in quick succession helped to usher him into whatever reality this was. He heard mumbling and indistinguishable groans.

He opened his eyes to the realization that he was on a cold hard surface - _a floor_.

Something felt off. Weird. _Was this a dream?_

They helped him into a chair; a black woman, mid to late thirties, short dark hair; a white man, late forties, greying hair, approximately 6' 3." The woman had concern etched across her face. The man - _lab coat, maybe a doctor_ \- seemed nervous.

Sheriff's Deputy Rick Grimes telescoped the room. There was a woman lying on the floor. She had long braids - _No, Dreadlocks_ \- covering her face. Four other individuals were sitting in chairs. He adjusted his vision to the unapologetic fluorescent light in the room- _No, a lab. This is some kinda laboratory_.

One of the women, a young attractive Latina woman, seemed angry; the man did too. The man looked like nearly every red-neck trouble maker Rick had arrested countless times throughout his career. They hated cops, didn't care too much for anybody of color, and were general pains in the ass. This guy, _she called him Mr. Dixon_ , seemed just like that.

They each began asking questions. The main question being, "Where are we?" The query remained unanswered by the two ' _captors_.' They continually skirted the question. "What do you remember?" they'd ask. The man eventually said he was Dr. Edwin Jenner and the woman was Jacqui Stone. He believed that those were their names, but he didn't believe much else.

It was possible that they were telling the truth. It was just as likely that they were lying. They were both very good at deflecting. Redirecting every inquiry back to its requester. They gained a lot more information than they divulged.

Rick asked a few questions of his own, though he had already determined that these two individuals were lying. And the doctor wasn't good at it.

But the others _. Can't put my finger on it_. These five people felt oddly familiar. It was a weird and unshakeable feeling. He sat and observed. Almost as if he was being drawn into a flame with neither the desire nor the will to turn away. He was connected to them. The very pragmatic part of the deputy nearing his mid-life years did not believe in serendipitous drivel. He was an investigator of truth and a detective of facts. These feelings he was having made no sense; lacking any reasonable foundation.

He had spent a fair amount of his years in church singing songs and praying to the unseen deity. _But there are limits_. The existence of God was just about the only thing he was willing to believe on faith alone. Everything else required proof.

Then, there was her. He watched as they lifted her into the awaiting seat. Her hair fell away from her face. His stomach flipped. Or was it a churn? He was inexplicably drawn to her. This dazed woman, sitting only an arms distance away, had some kind of control over him. Without his consent, he felt a bond with her. The feeling was so strong that when she opened her eyes and he saw her face, he almost lost himself. Almost lost the part of himself that was tethered to reality. Responsibility. Fidelity.

He had what could only be explained as an 'electrical connection' to her. _Which makes No damn sense_. The feeling, however, was so strong that he was sure, if he touched empty space between them, he would suffer an immediate jolt.

The connection he felt to her, and these other strangers, made no sense. _Yet there it is_.

Luckily, however, the overwhelming feeling seemed to lessen as the minutes passed. Whatever grip she had on him was quickly dissipating. The invisible cord that had his heart beating faster than it should, and his body excited in a way that was inappropriate, steadily crumbled; like coming down from the highest high one could ever have. He stared at her as he regained his senses.

He struggled to keep his eyes off of her. If this was some kind of lab experiment, he wouldn't give them the satisfaction of his compliance. If this wasn't an experiment, then he wouldn't give into his most basic instincts. Also, he had never been the jerk who stared at beautiful women. As minutes passed, his self-control became stronger. He had more of a choice to look away. The bond had lessened. He could now act in accordance with his manners and in the way his values demanded.

When the others focused their attention on Jenner and Stone, he casually glanced her way. Not staring like before. It was more like what Carl and his friends called low-key gawking. The other three 'lost' women were attractive; Maggie was the All-American country girl, Rosita the non-nonsense soldier well aware of her sexuality, and Carol the sweet earthy mom-next-door. Then there was _Michelle Onette. Michonne._

She had a beauty that Rick didn't normally take note of. Yes, he'd noticed the slight spillage of her cleavage before she discretely fastened the remaining buttons on her purple blouse. Noticing ample breasts was nothing new. He was a red-blooded man after all. It was everything else that gave him pause…

Hers was unconventional beauty. Exquisiteness that existed outside of the societal idea of what beauty is. Her skin was a creamy dark chocolate. Her hair long and natural. He knew the style was called Dreadlocks- knowledge gained primarily from television and movies. Her lips were full. Some women probably spent thousands of dollars to have her cupid-bow lips. Her eyes were almond shaped with dark brown iris' that held all her secrets, while at the same time freely giving them away. Her eyebrows were thick yet perfectly arched. Her adult sized button nose was rounded and wide with tips turned up faintly so her nostrils could be slightly seen. Her fingernails had the French tips that he liked. _Really liked_. It was a secret turn on. But it was her fingers that mesmerized him. They were long and smooth. _Graceful_. He'd never notice a woman's fingers before.

She was a breathtakingly different creature. _It's not just that you're attractive. What the Hell is it? And dammit, that perfume._

An indisputable dynamic was happening between them. He couldn't stop looking at her. She wouldn't look at him. It was disturbingly comical. Even when she nodded her head in agreement to his words, she kept her eyes focused straight ahead. What does she know? Is she afraid of giving something away with just a simple look? Did she take to heart the old saying that 'eyes are the window to the soul?' Maybe it was true. Maybe she just thought it was true. Could she have been afraid of divulging some deep secret simply by looking him in the eyes? There was no way of knowing. But something was up with her.

The answers that the doctor provided didn't make much sense. Even without doing research into this 'program' they spoke of, things didn't add up. Nothing made sense.

The Rules of Investigation were ingrained in him: (1) Review the possible (2) Take note of the probable (3) Don't rule out the improbable (4) When one plus one equals anything other than two, go back to square one (5) Above all else, Don't show your hand until the case is complete.

This case was not close to being complete.

He motioned towards the others, "I can't speak for everyone, but I think we all appreciate your candor." Rick glanced at that the other subjects in this experiment. They all gave an affirmative shake of the head.

"Can you give us a moment to talk things over?" Being the Interim Section Chief had turned him into a bureaucrat. There was no way around it. There was also no way to get away from the dogged heart of a skeptical deputy that he would always have. He had become an all-encompassing leader with tact. Able to say, without _having_ to say, 'You two aren't invited.' Jenner and Stone got the message loud and clear.

"Oh, of course," Jacqui took the hint. Without another word she and the doctor made their way to the area closest to the door.

The six should-be-strangers walked in the opposite direction. Before they came to a complete stop, Daryl groused, "Anybody else think everything they just said was bullshit?"

"I was thinking that too," Maggie kept her voice low, "And I didn't say anything—but I feel like I have a hangover—from alcohol. I had enough of 'em in college to know what one feels like."

"I feel it too," Rosita concurred; her eyes glancing into the faces of the others for confirmation that they were in the same boat.

Rick wasn't sure where his unease and lack of true awareness was coming from. _It ain't alcohol though._ He was trying not to show his annoyance at not being able to figure all this out. He rubbed the back of his neck; shaking his head in frustration.

"I can't say I feel like I have a hangover," Michonne dropped her voice to a lower octave, narrowing her eyes on Rosita's shoes; "I do feel—kinda sore." She squeezed her legs imperceptibly.

What was she not saying? Rick was doing his best to read this unreadable woman. She was holding something back. He suddenly felt like he was standing on the precipice of illumination. It was right there. Whatever this was seemed _just_ out of his reach.

"Not to say that what they told us is impossible nowadays. But even with technology—it seems just a little bit too farfetched," Carol added.

"Yeah."

"They referred to you as Deputy," Rosita added, her eyes giving him a skeptical once over, "which means you're probably trained in detecting B.S. Better than we are. You have any ideas?"

Rick didn't answer right away.

He was almost more interested in these five people than he was in the two people that he'd already assessed were not telling the truth. He watched them. All of them. Paid attention to their movements. To the inflection in their words. To their tone. They were just as confused as he was. They wanted the truth, unlike what they were being told. He needed to keep what he knew, or was piecing together, close to the vest. He needed to be sure.

Why were their memories so mixed up? Or had their memories been erased? Are they connected?

"I think we're all right in our assessment that they're not telling us the truth. With most lies, at least convincing lies, there's generally a shred of truth that makes it easier to believe. Our problem is not knowing exactly what parts true, and what parts are lies. I think we need to err on the side of caution. They are chomping at the bit to find out what we remember…" he paused for a moment.

He thought a moment. There was something he needed to remember. Something _just_ out of his grasp…

"There is something that they don't want us to remember. Something that they aren't sure we _can_ remember. They know that we're skeptical. It's important that they don't let them know how much. How much we piece together." It was another gut feeling that he would rely on. "The most important thing we can do is not allow paranoia to cloud our already blurry vision."

All but Michonne stared at him. They were trying to make sense of what he was saying. The dutiful attorney, however, kept her hand on her pendant and her gaze on the blank white wall.

Rick continued, "What are some things that we remember that we haven't divulged? I think that we have the answers to the questions that _they_ won't answer." He glanced over his shoulder at the two conductors of this experiment. Then back at his current group of allies. He watched as

"I remember a motel. May have been a hotel."

"I do too. Vague memories of a door. Seems like a motel door. Hotel doors, at least the nice hotels, don't have doors like that." Rosita glanced at everyone's face, "Don't judge me." There was playfulness in her half-smile and rolling eyes that they had not seen until just then.

Rick didn't share Carol and Rosita's memories. The fragments were slowly being amassed. Detective work was a lot like playing chess - as well as putting together a puzzle. Staying ahead of your opponent. Always looking ahead. What moves will they make? What moves can you make in preparation of their actions. Then came the _fun_ of building the puzzle into a discernible image.

"Daryl," he waited until the agitated man was looking him in the eyes, "Check your pockets," he whispered.

They all glanced at the Deputy and then to the mechanic. Without plan or thought, the women reached into their pockets as well.

Daryl dug his hands into his front, and then, back pockets. He opened both hands. The right held a key ring with three keys and a key fob on it. The second held a matchbook, a folded twenty-dollar bill and several pieces of lint. He turned the matchbook over.

"Where's it from?" Carol asked.

"Traveler's Inn Motel in Decatur. Seen it before. It's not far from the highway. Never been there before tho."

Rick could see the bewilderment on Daryl Dixon's face as his own words didn't exactly fit this current circumstance. He was holding proof that he _had_ in fact been to the motel.

"Hmm."

"Probably the motel Rosita and I remembered," Carol presumed, giving no eye contact to the others. There were a number of conclusions they could jump to. Almost as if collectively deciding not to go down that road, they moved on.

"Whatcha got?" Rick asked Carol. The woman's advocate opened her hands. She held a roll of lifesavers and a receipt from a diner named _The Diner_.

"Have you ever been there before?" Rick asked as he and the others took a gander at what she held.

"N—No," she muttered lost in thought, "not that I can remember."

"This is—" Maggie squinted, scrunching her nose as she looked at the blue business card of Glenn Rhee, Restaurant Manager of the _Orange Duck Restaurant_. She stared at the card as if it would speak. As if it would somehow answer the questions that had grown exponentially as they stood in this glass cage.

"By the look on your face, I assume that you've never been there." Rick thought out loud.

She shook her head in answer to the Deputy's words. Not taking her eyes off the foreign card in her hand.

Rosita was holding a piece of paper. It was folded a few times over. A pamphlet of some kind. She unfolded it. No. Not a pamphlet. It was a program from a church service. First African Methodist Episcopal Church in Atlanta.

"It's from— today?" She questioned and informed, with no hope of getting an answer. While pondering what could not be explained, she elaborated, "I rarely go to church. And—and if I do I—I'm Catholic." She glanced down at the paper in her trembling hand, "What the Hell," she deadpanned.

Rick and Michonne were the only ones left. He looked over at her while she regarded Rosita. There was such kindness on her face – true empathy.

They were a group of confused people. Scared. Even Daryl. He hid his fear in a façade of anger. But he was scared.

"Um, what about you—Miss Onette," he sputtered, staring at the side of her face. She seemed set on not facing him.

Michonne responded by revealing what she was holding; her car keys and a nearly crumpled piece of paper. She stuck the keys back in her pocket and proceeded to unfold the paper… "This is the way my son Andre folds pictures. The one—he makes at school," her voice was low as she spoke to no one in particular.

Rick stared at her as she gingerly unfolded the paper. It looked like a child's attempt at doing some type of 'cool' paper folding trick. Her eyes grew large after two seconds of examining the picture. She shuddered, inhaled sharply, and let out a quiet gasp. The paper dropped to the white tile. One hand flew to her mouth.

The others stood baffled. Frozen. Rick took the lead, bending down to pick up the paper. The others stepped closer.

"Wha—" Rosita started and then paused as she looked at what Rick held in his hands.

"Oh My God," Maggie whispered, her brows raised.

Rick glanced over to the other side of the room. Intent on keeping an eye on the doctor and his assistant. They were having what appeared to be a heated discussion. After ensuring that they weren't being watched, he looked back at the picture in his hand.

It was a child's vibrant drawing of six people in colorful clothes. The man on the far left had what looked like some type of tool in one hand, and an arrow in the other. The woman next to him had short brown hair with a large book in her hand; the picture on the book appeared to be green eggs. Next to her was a woman with long brown hair sitting on a grey animal – possibly a horse. On the other side of the woman on the possible horse, was a woman with long black hair, shorts, and a child's version of breasts. Next to the buxom woman was a brown woman with long braids, and a huge smile. On the end, next to the happy brown woman, was a man with dark pants, a Sheriff's badge on his brown shirt and blue eyes. A large yellow and orange sun sat above the group with what could've been either clouds or birds next it. Along the bottom were the words – Mommies Friends – written in a child's hand.

 _Wow. This looks like something Carl made back when he was in Kindergarten. Her son must be about or five or six._ As upsetting as it was to see the picture, it was also somewhat comforting. They were strangers, but they had obviously gotten along. They got along well enough for her little boy to meet them. _She wouldn't let just anyone around her child. I'm sure of it_.

For the first time since waking on the floor, he felt at ease. He looked at the face of the others. They didn't. It was understandable. He was trained in a way that they were not.

"You—You all have met my son," she was mystified and unabashedly confused, "But when?"

He could hear the unease and fear in her voice. He had an overwhelming need to touch her hand. To offer comfort. To somehow assure her that everything would be alright. Retaining distance was what he chose instead.

Seconds ticked away into minutes. No one spoke.

"Well," Carol broke the silence, "I wish I could remember meeting your little guy. Seems like he was fond us," she leaned forward, extending an eye reaching smile.

"Your son is a good little artist," Maggie said, also smiling at the anxious mom, "he's got real talent."

"Yes, he _does_. Look at the rack he put on me. I like that kid," Rosita exclaimed, reaching over and smacking Michonne on the arm. She was obviously a woman who didn't let things like political correctness stop her from speaking her mind.

Everyone quietly laughed at the inappropriate comment. In that moment they were simply six people enjoying each other's company. No fear. No confusion. No looming dread.

"The devil's in the details my friend," Carol winked at Rosita.

"What's up with the arrow?" Daryl added to the ease that they were currently enjoying, "Is it an arrow?"

"Maybe he thinks you're an archer. Are you?" Maggie's Southern twang reappeared.

"Nah. I ain't no archer," he glanced at the picture that Michonne was still holding, "The kid thinks I am tho. Nice."

There was something about this grumbling guy that Rick was starting to like. The women seemed to like him too, based on their short chuckle at his sullen nature.

They spent more time looking at the picture. Each taking time to make comments on Andre's depiction of them. Rick noticed the strange rhythm they seemed to have with one another. They all, especially the women, seemed to find an even deeper human connection as they fawned over the little boy's vision of them.

Rick didn't want to interrupt this momentary reprieve, but they still had a lot to figure out; more random clues to piece together. "Ahem," he cleared his throat. Their eyes were now back on him. Lingering smiles on their faces.

Almost forgot what we're doin' here, "Maggie's smile seemed to add a sparkle to her green eyes, "We still haven't seen what you have, Deputy."

"Call me Rick. Please," he said reaching into his pockets. Nothing in the back. Nothing in the front left. Something strange in the right. _Smooth. Flat. Round._ And a small piece of paper.

Rick grasped both objects and pulled them out of his favorite blue jeans. He looked at the piece of paper first. It was an eighty-four dollars movie ticket receipt from the Cineplex Theater in Decatur. He stared at it for a moment and then handed it to Carol. The remaining item in his hand was even more perplexing. It was a black 1.5" button/pinback with block letter that said - INTELLIGENCE IS THE TORCH OF WISDOM. Their eyes moved from the ticket and became glued on the small pin.

"The tickets at the Cineplex are fourteen dollars for adult tickets. Looks like this receipt is for six," Carol said, lightly waving the ticket before glancing over to Rick, "Do you think we all went to the movies together?"

"I—really—really don't know," Rick said honestly while staring at the button/pinback in his hand, "looks that way."

Daryl mumbled something that Rick couldn't hear clearly. Sounded something like, _"I ain't gon' to no girly-ass movie or nothin."_

"What does _that_ mean?" Maggie asked the Sheriff's Deputy, pointing at the button, "I mean, beyond the obvious."

"Intelligence is the torch of wisdom." Michonne said quietly to herself.

 _I have No damn idea what any of this shit means,_ he thought, without audibly answering the burning enquiry. He mindlessly dragged the smooth metal through his fingers. Rubbing the smooth surface. In search of an answer beyond the white letters that stared back at him. A random affirmation. _I should know what this means. Why the Hell don't I?_

"Another clue to where we've been for the past few days. Wish the damn thing could speak." Rosita's no-nonsense words summed it up.

Rick could feel their eyes on him as he fiddled with the button, "I hate to keep sayin' that I don't know. But," he tilted his head, glancing at the others, and offering his best lop-sided smile, "I don't know."

For the first time since they'd been standing there, Michonne looked at him. It was the briefest of time. No more than a second. She looked to him for the answer. And there was something else in her eyes. He slid the button back into his pocket and ran his hands through his hair.

The thickening silence was instantly interrupted, "Where's our purses?" Carol raised suddenly. They each glanced over to their empty chairs. There were no purses or other items.

"What about our phones?"

"Maybe in our cars."

"Speaking of that, where _are_ our cars?"

"Daryl and Michonne are the only ones with car keys."

"That's right."

"Based on the things they said, and what they _didn't_ say. I'm pretty sure they didn't bring us here. We must've come together."

"Could've been Uber. Or Lyft."

"I ain't takin' No damn Uber."

It was a round-robin of thoughts, questions and speculation.

With that, Rick knew it was time to go. There was nothing else that they would learn from Jenner and Stone. He had grown anxious and continuing to deal with these two people who were not being truthful would only make him angry.

He raised his voice just enough to guarantee they would hear him, "Why don't we go to the diner that Carol has a receipt for? Can't say we'll find the answers there. Seems like as good a place as any to start though. Plus—it's a chance to look at everything that we have. Start piecein' some things together."

"Sounds good to me."

"Plus, I'm hungry as shit. Um, 'scuse the language." The corners of Daryl's mouth twitched upwards a tad.

 _I'm beginning to like this guy_ , Rick couldn't help but think.

"Yeah. Not sure where I'm goin' after that. But food sounds good. Bein' away from those two assholes sounds even better." Rosita's eyes narrowed towards the two in question as she spoke.

Without missing a beat, Michonne smiled at the younger woman, "You can stay with me. Apparently my son already likes you."

x-x-x-x

Rick closed the doors for both ladies, walked around to the passenger side, and took his shotgun position. The car smelled like her. With all the things that he'd noticed, her warm sweet scent was one of the things he tried to ignore. The smell of flowers, fruit, spice or whatever went into creating her perfume, was merciless. It wafted into his nostrils right after he awoke in the glass chamber and never left.

Much like the perfume, her car suited her. Even with its high-tech gadgets, the mom that she was, was ever present. Her son's small treasures, pieces of forgotten candy, and miscellaneous school belongings were spread throughout the car.

She started the ignition. Music floated through the speakers. Before the interior light in the car went dark, he spotted his keys and phone in the center console.

"Guess this answers one of my questions," he said, picking up his items with a grin.

Michonne sneaked a quick look at him before proceeding to back out of the stall, following Daryl towards the highway.

"Shit Yeah!" Rosita yelped from the back seat, "Here's my purse—and Yes. My phone's in here. Michonne, I think this is probably your purse. Gray Coach?"

"Yep—that's it," Michonne answered, her voice sounding distant and distracted.

"Nice purse," Rosita complimented.

"Uh—thanks."

"When we get to the diner we can all check our phones. Might be the best way to not only figure out where we've been, but also what we did over the past few days," Rick interjected into the beginning of a girl talk conversation that Michonne didn't seem interested in having.

The light from the backseat caught his attention. Rosita was fixated on her phone with a frown on her face as she scrolled through the messages.

"Anything interesting? Maybe more clues that can help us figure all this out?"

"No. So far it's just a bunch of text messages from a few of my friends. A couple from work. And one from my aunt. Some of the text messages are from a few days ago. Doesn't look like I've responded to all of them. I did respond to a few. Nothing really interesting though. Looks like I have some voice messages too." she sighed, "This is so fucked up."

Rick desperately wanted to check his phone. But doing so next to someone who was unable to check theirs seemed inconsiderate. He would just wait until they got to the diner.

Almost as if she could read his mind, "Don't you wanna check yours?" She asked, not looking away from the road and tail lights in front of her. It was one of the few times that she'd spoken directly to him.

"Uh, No. I'll just wait 'til we get to the diner."

"Oh. I see—that you're married," she paused for a moment, glancing at his left hand and the glowing gold band, "Don't you think your wife, family, will be worried?"

"Maybe. If it's anything like Rosita's, then I've probably responded to anything that's been asked. I'm curious. But, I can wait. Seems only right."

"Point taken Deputy," Rosita piped in, "but patience has never been my strong suit," she chuckled.

"No worries," Rick replied.

Except for the periodic comments from Rosita about purses and matching shoes, the remainder of the drive was done in virtual silence.

"Yeah," the distracted driver mumbled in response to most of the comments.

They arrived at the diner in less than thirty minutes. She pulled into the stall next to Daryl's car. Once they exited the vehicles Rick recommended that they check the trunk of both cars to see if there was anything in there that would help them. In Daryl's car they found his, Carol's and Maggie's bags. In Michonne's car they found hers, Rick's and Rosita's.

The diner was not familiar at all to Rick; or the others as it turned out. They sat at a large table and placed their orders with the friendly waitress.

When the server stepped away, Rick had everyone put the items they'd found in their pockets onto the table. He also suggested that everyone go through their phones and look for any messages that seemed odd; paying close attention to the date and time stamp of each message.

"If you look at the dates of everything that we have, you can see a pattern. We've apparently been with or around each other for the last three days," was what he told them. It was an easy deduction. The more deeper answers would not be found tonight.

There _were_ messages that stood out and offered more information into their movements over the past few days. The most interesting one was from Daryl's brother Merle who was either incredibly stupid, incredibly racist, or both. The text referred to a Nubian Princess with a big booty hugging on to Daryl like he had either just given her and people their freedom or had blew her back out. It ended with several emoji's that, taken as a group, could only be considered as extremely misogynistic and inappropriate. Daryl had responded to the text with the words – _Stupid Ass. Eat Shit._ Daryl was definitely a 'why waste words' kind of guy.

Rick could see the embarrassment all over the mechanic's face; the sorrowfully apologetic way he looked at Michonne. Offering a silent apology. She simply gave him a huge smile while tapping his hand

 _The hug Merle spoke of means that she knew Daryl before this_. Most of what they found pointed to them all knowing each other before they woke up. Though, for some reason, he was bothered by this particular piece of the puzzle. His stomach did a somersault when he saw the kindness in her eyes directed towards the other man. It was tantamount to some type of unwarranted jealousy. Along with everything else, it made no sense. He could not possibly be jealous. He'd ear mark that info and deal with it later.

Rick still could not make neither head nor tail of what he found in his pocket. There was no doubt in his mind that he and the others had placed these specific items in their pockets for a reason. They were trying to tell themselves something.

Together they stumbled upon the first answers of the night. There were messages in the notes on their phones. All six of them had written nearly identical memos to themselves. Carol's informed her that her car was at the motel. Daryl's told him to make sure Carol got home safe. Rick's told him that his car was at the motel and added that he should give Maggie a ride home. Maggie's informed her that her car was at home and she could trust the deputy to drive her home. Rosita's said to go with Michonne, and that her flight home was booked for Monday (the next day). Michonne's said to take Rosita home with her.

Rick could tell that there was more in Michonne's notes than she said. Her eyes narrowed and she trailed off as she read. _What are you hiding?_ He didn't want to insult her, or drive a wedge between her and the others, but she was holding back. He smiled, tipping his head at her, and kept his thoughts to himself.

"We were obviously looking out for each other."

"Yep."

"That's good to know."

"I'd think it was sweet if it wasn't so damn freaky."

Carol's comment caused them to do something that they had yet to do together. Laugh. The laugh that shakes your shoulders, splits your sides, and causes your eyes to tear. It continued until the not so subtle side looks for other patrons became overbearing. Even Daryl had given in to his most basic human need to laugh.

"Maybe this is some kind of mind control. Makes just as much sense as subliminal messaging."

He wasn't sure who made _that_ particular comment. It was just one of the many that had been thrown around as they sat at the table.

"This may sound weird, but for some reason I feel safe with you guys. And I don't trust most people," Rosita said.

"I feel the same way," Maggie smiled in agreement.

They finished their meal without much conversation. Everyone was too deep in their heads to talk. Rick was actually looking forward to driving the young country girl teacher home. Once he dropped her off he would have the time to drive back to King County alone with his thoughts. Without the distraction of Michelle Onette. Maybe able to put this all together without her eyes to cloud his mind. It would also give him the time to figure out how much of this he would share with Lori.

When they were finished, they got back into the cars they'd arrived in and drove to the motel.

The goodbyes at the motel would stay with him for a while. His time alone, driving to and from work, were the only times that he'd allowed himself to reflect on it.

x-x-x-x

"Hey Dad," his son greeted from the front porch, as he walked towards the door.

The past few days had been difficult. With the exception of random flashes, he still had not recovered the memories from _those_ days. Through his conversation with his family and co-workers, he'd managed to piece together some of his actions. The biggest pieces came from the five people who awoke in the lab with him. The aberrant clues told them where they'd been. Nothing told them why. It was frustrating.

His background check into Jenner and Stone had not given him any more information than they had already disclosed. He even looked into his co-victims. Everyone was what they seemed. All appeared to be decent law-abiding citizens...

Six law abiding citizens who'd been given some type of subliminal prompt. A prompt that caused them to lose time. Do things that they were not aware of. Do things that were possibly wrong…morally.

Frustration had turned into inner turmoil. It had been two days of simply going through the motions of life. Work had become nothing more than a rote process. His production level had significantly decreased at work. At least five hours of his regular work day were spent staring at the pin/button with the informational affirmation. He rubbed it. Fiddled with it. Tapped it. Still couldn't figure it out.

Home was not much better. If zombies really existed, he was sure he would meet the minimum qualifications to be one.

He couldn't sleep. When he shut out conscious thought and allowed dreams to take over, he saw her eyes. Her large brown eyes begged for him to answer. They lingered on. It was unnerving. He could only escape her eyes when he was conscious.

Hearing the child-like freedom in his son's voice was his lifeline. He smiled his first genuine smile the entire day. Carl was at the age where pre-teens and teens become moody and sarcastic. But not Carl. He was still the same sweet kid that he had always been.

"Hey son," he walked up to the younger Grimes, ruffling his hair, "how was your day?"

"It was fine. School's a daily struggle, though," he smirked, "I'm barely makin' it through."

"Yeah. That's tough. Glad your makin' it through too," he joined his son in his teen silliness.

"Oh Dad. Here's the mail," he stuck it in his father's hand, "I'm still waiting on my order. It's been like three days already."

"Hmm. What exactly are you waitin' on again?" Rick asked distractedly as he mindless flipped through the several pieces of mail in his hand.

" _Dad_ ," Carl stopped mid-stride to the front door; exasperated and mildly disgusted, "How could you forget? I ordered the new issue of _The Beatle Bomber_ from that guy on EBay. Remember? How could you forget? Best comic ever. I mean _Really_ Dad."

"Sorry son. It's been a long few days."

"No worries Dad. I'm gonna go get my homework finished." And just like that, Carl disappeared into the house to tackle a new task.

The scent of his wife's Wednesday meatloaf hit him as soon as he entered the house. She was a creature of habit. For the most part.

He walked into the house. Once he'd dropped his bag on the sofa, he followed the scent and noise. His wife was standing by the stove when he entered the room.

Lori was above average height, slim, with long dark hair. She was an attractive woman. Didn't look much different than she did when they married straight out of high school. He'd always appreciated how she looked. Never wanting to be the type of husband who took his wife for granted.

Their marriage had not been without its difficulties. The first few years were hard. The honeymoon phase ended without much warning and fast tracked them into the 'work hard to stay above water phase.' They treaded water off and on for years. The last few years, however, had gotten better. He listened to her when she expressed her concerns. He held his tongue when his words could cause an argument. He tried to be more present in his home and marriage. When she decided that now was a good time to try having a baby, he didn't disagree. He'd wanted more children right after Carl became a toddler. She was reluctant to have another baby once he began his career in law enforcement and was rarely home. Now she was ready.

"Hey there. How was your day?" He asked, not walking into the kitchen completely.

She looked up from the pot where she was stirring something that was either rice or pasta, "Hey," she smiled, "It was good. How was yours?"

"Long. Tiring. Glad to be home," he sighed. She stepped away from the stove and over to him. Leaning up, she kissed his lips and then laid her hand on his chest.

"Is it a new case, or just the regular bureaucracy?"

"Just the regular rigmarole of the job, I guess."

"Well, sit and relax. Dinner should be ready soon."

"Okay. I think I will," he said turning to walk back into the front room.

"Did you see Carl? I think he was outside."

"Yep. He ran up to his room. Probably on some kid website. Pretending to do his homework," he chuckled at his assessment of his son's behavior.

"You're probably right," she laughed, walking back towards the stove.

He was used to not telling Lori about what he dealt with at work. Most of what he'd witnessed in his professional life were not things that he'd ever want her to have in her head. But this was different. He had not only lied by omission, he'd lied outright. There's no way that she, or most people, could understand what he was going through. Even if he could tell her about Jenner and Stone, and the 'program' he'd been an unwitting participant in, he couldn't tell her about _her_. He had another woman stuck in his head. Another woman so deeply ingrained in his subconscious that he could barely close his eyes without seeing her eyes.

 _Nope. Not somethin' I can tell anyone. Maybe them. No. Let those sleepin' dogs lie._

The stress of the day was fading into the background as he began to look through the mail. As soon as he saw the letters – the writing - on the envelope he froze. The sharp and concise print learned years ago in the Explorer Program. Never cursive. _It's my handwriting_. The hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention. His heartrate sped up. His gaze quickly shifted; scanning the room to confirm that he was alone. His breath hitched. The feeling of doing something inappropriate overtook him.

A pot clanked as it was placed on the stove grate. _Shit_. He nearly jumped out of his skin. A chuckle escaped him at the ridiculousness of his sudden jumpiness.

"Did you say something?" Lori called from the kitchen.

"N—No," he responded back.

She poked her head into the room with a smile, "Okay. Oh. And dinner should be done soon. Do you want a beer?"

"No. No thank you. I'm good." He shook his head.

She went back to her task. He ran his hand over his face. The very comfortable, average sized living room suddenly felt small and suffocating.

His legs were like lead as he made his way to the nearest Ottoman in the room. Without taking time to ponder or overthink, he opened the envelope. Removed the contents. The six by nine-inch stationery paper reminded him of a letter he'd received from a girl in middle school. It was light blue with white clouds in the background. There were three sheets of this strangely familiar paper. He scanned the words on the paper. Suddenly too nervous to allow his eyes to adjust beyond the initial blur of the words.

 _Can't do this_. _Not here._ He folded the paper, put it back into the envelope and stuck it down into his pocket. Rising from the comfy chair he strode to the kitchen.

"I need to take care of something at the office. Shouldn't be too long," he said.

Her back was to him. He could see her shoulders rise. An exasperated sigh filled the room. Rick knew what was coming next. Lately their relationship had become more contentious. His guilt and lack of sleep was not helping.

"You just barely got home," she turned, wiping her hands of the dish towel, "Isn't it something that can wait 'til tomorrow?" This had been an ongoing argument that never quite became an argument; more of a tension filled discussion. They danced around her growing irritation at his long work hours. She made it about Carl. He made it about trying to provide a better life.

"No. It can't wait, Lori." He attempted a smile, stepping closer to her, "I'm sorry. I should be back before long."

She wasn't giving in so easily, "You know, it's been days since you've had dinner with us. Even when you _are_ here, you're not really here." There it was. Locked in this cyclical stalemate. Her lips were pressed together. They temporarily served as dam holding back the flood that was aching to spill forth.

 _Patience_. He softened his expression. Forcing a smile that he was sure looked like a smirk to her. _Don't get mad at her. You're lying right now Grimes. Suck it up_ , "You're right. There's just been a lot goin' on."

"I get that, Rick. You're great at your job. But you still have a son that needs his father."

He held in the annoyed breath that was aching for release. This was generally where the 'discussion' really got started. His job was the wick. Carl was the flame. _Not this time._ She stared into his face. Ready for his rebuttal.

He smiled, "I'll take Carl out this weekend. He's been wantin' to go to the Speedway. We can spend the day together. He can invite a couple of his friends if he wants. I'll also take you out to that steakhouse you like." He walked closer to his annoyed wife.

"I'm really tryin' here Lori," he said softly, placing a kiss on her cheek.

Her shoulders relaxed. "I know you are, Rick," she relented, running her hand over his stubbly face, "just hurry back, okay."

Hours of deescalating workshops that he'd taken part in over the past few months paid off more in his marriage than at work. People want their feelings addressed. They want their feelings validated. It's the one thing that most people had in common. Initially it felt like a mind game. When the classroom exercises spilled into his real life. It seemed wrong. But it worked. His marriage was surviving because of those workshops. Lori thought it was the marriage counseling. He knew better. His marriage was the benefactor his training. Hours of practicing self-realization modules. Internalizing what it takes to move through strife without loss of life or property.

"I will," he promised, grabbing his keys and making a quick trek to the door.

The various lobes in his brain did their job. He drove on autopilot. The music drowned out the thoughts that were sitting in his prefrontal cortex. Waiting to be pondered and dealt with. The thoughts were fighting for release. He reached over and turned up the volume. Drowning out the temptation. He sang off key to every song that wailed through the speakers.

He parked in his reserved spot. There was no real reason to drive back to work to simply read a letter. It didn't make sense. Except it did. This letter would probably change his life. If he had to explain this to someone, he would be at a loss for words. There was no way to explain it. Was it intuition? The same intuition that told him that he and Michelle Onette had been intimate. Would the letter confirm what he already knew—deep down.

"Maybe I should just burn this god-forsaken letter," he drawled, retrieving the mail from his pocket.

The tap on his window shocked him out of his thoughts, "Hey Chief," he looked to his left to see the huge toothy smile on Deputy Victor Tillison's face. _God Dammit_. He put on his professional work smile and pushed the button; lowering the window.

"Sorry Chief. Didn't mean to startle you," the young Deputy said with a sorrowful grin.

"Good evening Deputy Tillison."

Victor Tillison was one of the new deputies that Rick had brought in during his short tenure as Interim Section Chief. Tillison was young and eager. He reminded Rick of how green he and Shane were when they first joined the department. _'Young, dumb and full of cum,'_ the senior deputies would always say. The desire to help people and make the world better was written all over the face of the young man – _Wish I could be that green again_ – Rick reminisced often.

"Thought you'd left for the day, Sir," the young man continued.

"I did," Interim Chief Grimes replied, "forgot somethin' in the office." He put the window up -in the young man's face- turned off the engine, and then stepped out of the car. Tillison stepped back to allow him space.

"I—um—was speaking with—uh Deputy Walsh earlier," the young deputy stammered while attempting to gather his courage, "about the possibility of –taking on more duties." He fumbled with the note pad in his hand.

Internally Rick laughed at the young man's nervousness and drive. Outwardly he kept his face stoic, giving nothing away…

"I appreciate your drive and temerity Deputy. Come by my office tomorrow and we'll discuss it."

"Oh WOW! Really? Yeah!" Deputy Tillison was only seconds away from pumping his fist in the air or jumping up and asking for a high-five. It took him a moment before he composed himself, "I mean, Uh, thank you Sir," he did his best to kill his grin.

 _You have the worst poker face of anyone I've ever seen_ – Rick smiled, ending the young man's suffering, "See you tomorrow Deputy."

"Yes Sir. Good night."

Rick surveyed the parking lot while he watched the young man walk away. There weren't many cars remaining. _Everyone's off living their lives. Their normal lives. Wonder if mines will ever be normal again._

He shook his head; ridding himself of the doubts.

x-x-x-x

The station was nearly deserted. The evening shift consisted of only a handful of deputies, one receptionist and two dispatchers. Rick was able to walk the long hallway to his office and cross paths with only a few people…

"Good evening, Chief," they each said as he passed.

He walked into his office and closed the door. The letter was in his hand. Wasting no time or thought, he removed the letter from the envelope.

 _Rick,_

 _This is going to be the weirdest and most earth shattering letter you will ever read. I'm not sure exactly how to start this. Not even sure what I should say. I'll start with the obvious and then go from there. Don't trust Dr. Edwin Jenner and Jacqui Stone. I had Tom look into them. He didn't find anything. I looked into them myself and I didn't find anything either. My gut tells me that there's more to them than what's on paper. Your gut is undoubtedly telling you the same thing. I don't think they are bad people, but you and I both know that that doesn't necessarily make them good either. You and I are the same, so you probably have the same feeling. Trust it. Even a good person can turn ferocious when they're cornered. Remember Old Man Burris' dog? Just keep both eyes on them._

 _I got ahead of myself. Let me back up a little. I don't know what Jenner told you when you woke up. Did you wake up in that glass chamber with the others, or did they move you? I'll never know, but I don't think they would purposely harm you or the others. They messed around in our lives without considering the consequences. I do think that they considered their actions to be good and for the benefit of the world. At least that's what they convinced themselves of._

 _Let's move on to other things. Now is the time to sit down if you aren't sitting already. Also, you should read the rest of this alone._

Rick stopped reading and glanced around the office. It was a nice office with newish furniture inherited from the recently retired Section Chief – his previous boss. If this Interim assignment became permanent, this would be his office. And barring anything scandalous, the job was already his. He picked up his water bottle and took several gulps. His attention went back to the four sheets of paper in his hand.

 _Remember how you, Shane and Doug use to laugh at the ridiculousness of movies about aliens, time travel and science fiction? Well, I don't know about aliens and I'm not really sure about time travel, but other science fiction things are true. Certainly, in our case. This may sound like an episode of The Twilight Zone. I know it does to me, but what I'm about to tell you is the truth._

 _The reason that I know you so well is because you and I are the same person. I guess we're not the exact same person, but I'm you from a different earth. Actually, a parallel dimension. Yeah, I know it sounds crazy. If someone told me this, I'd immediately require a Psych Eval. But as crazy as it seems, deep inside, you know that I'm telling the truth._

 _I don't know how many dimensions exist. Maybe just two, or maybe millions. Either way, I'm from one of them._

 _My life and yours were nearly identical until about 3 years ago. My world went through a type of war and everything change. I met Dr. Jenner and Jacqui at the CDC right after the world went to shit. He and some other scientists had created a machine. Can't say I understand all the particulars, but he and Jacqui ended up in this world. He recreated the machine, booted it up, and brought me here—to your world. I know this sounds ridiculous._

 _I was with five of my friends at the time he zapped me into this world. They were brought here too. Our bodies remained suspended between worlds. However, our minds went into your bodies. We had access to all your memories but not your thoughts._

 _So, let me tell you about the five people that came with me. They're not just my friends, they're my family. I trust them with my life._

 _Daryl Dixon is like my brother. He has one of the best hearts of anyone I've ever known. I know you probably didn't see that when you met him. Trust me, he's not just a backwards red neck. You can trust him Rick. He's a good guy._

 _Rosita Espinosa is a tough woman. She's like Daryl when it comes not letting you see her big heart, but trust me, it's there. She's very loyal._

 _Maggie Rhee is a pistol. Don't let her being a farm girl fool you. The Maggie in this world is probably not as tough as the Maggie in my world, but believe me, it's there._

 _Carol Peletier is the one that will perplex you. She's good at hiding who she is. She spent many years being abused by her husband and hiding that abuse. Her smile is mostly a mask. She's a true chameleon. But she should never be underestimated. She's loyal as hell and will kill, if need be, for those she loves. The Carol in this world is undoubtedly not the same as our Carol, but I know it's inside of her._

 _This is the part that I've struggled with telling you. How much do I say? I don't know what's right here, but I know that I have to tell you this._

He didn't allow his eyes to drift beyond the period after the word _this_. His heart rate increased again…

 _Shit_ \- "Take a breath, Grimes," he instructed himself before sitting the letter on the desk and standing up. He walked to the window opposite the medium sized book shelf.

His hands were trembling. Fear gripped him. An indescribable fear. The fear of death, disease, criminals with guns, spiders, and so on, were regular fears that he could handle. But this was different. This fear had him temporarily paralyzed. This was the fear of losing everything. The fear of losing his family, his job…his sanity. _Everything_. He knew that reading beyond that period would change his life. It was why he couldn't sleep. Knowing the truth deep inside but not wanting to accept it. The eyes that haunted him. The touch that he desired. The scent that enraptured him.

Glancing back towards the desk. _You have to read this_ ; the thought was clear.

"You need to know," he mumbled. Sitting back into his seat, inhaling the resolve and exhaling the fear, he picked up the letter…

 _Just like you, my marriage was not in the best place three years ago. You and your Lori began marriage counseling which seems to have saved your marriage. Before my Lori and I could try counseling, the world took a drastic change. It made our already rocky marriage worse. She passed away shortly after. It was a horrible time. Before she died we weren't exactly happy, but we'd come to a place of contentment. After her death, I didn't think I'd survive. I knew I had to though. I had Carl to love and care for. Carl is an amazing young man. I'm so proud of him._

 _Before I go any further, let me just assure you that I never touched your wife. She's your Lori, not mines. As impossible and improbable as it is, I managed to fall in love. The other person that was with me when I came to your world was Michelle Onette. We all call her Michonne. She's the light of my life. I love her in a way that I didn't know was possible. She got me through some pretty difficult times. She's truly the love of my life. That's not a negative on Lori. It's just the simple truth. Much like I know that you would never cheat on Lori. I'd never cheat on Michonne. It's not who we are._

A tear dropped onto the paper. He didn't realize he'd begun to cry. Tears for Lori. Tears for Carl who had lost his mother. Tears for Rick. Tears for a man who he knew better than anyone… "He fell in love. My God," Rick whispered before standing to retrieve facial tissue from the end table that sat near the door. He held tight to the letter, nearly crumpling its edges as he grabbed the tissue box. His eyes were slightly blurred as he focused his sight back on the letter…

 _The reason I'm telling you about her is because when we arrived here we lost. Lost in every way. We needed each other. We needed to be with each other in every way. It was not about lust or some physical desire. It was about a connection. We needed each other. It's difficult to explain, even to you. She's the light within the darkness that often consumes me. It's a darkness that would've destroyed me if she hadn't come along. We both needed that light here in your world._

 _We spent the night together. We were discreet. I know you like I know myself. You've never cheated on Lori. Neither of us are that kind of man. Yes, it was your body, but it was my mind and my soul. I didn't feel your presence when Michonne and I made love, so I don't think it is a part of your memory. I hope it's not a part of your memories, which is why I struggled with telling you. I didn't want you to beat yourself up over something that was completely out of your control. I'm also telling you about Michonne because should some thought or memory of her flash through your brain, I don't want you to go crazy or spend your days giving into guilt._

 _Also, I don't want you to hold anything against her. The Michonne in this world probably has no concrete memory of anything either. Although, I think I should tell you that my Michonne said she felt this Michonne's presence when we were together. It's possible that this Michonne may have some memories that you don't. We both feel incredibly guilty about that._

 _I did some research into the Michelle Onette of this world. She's pretty amazing. She and the others are really good people. It may sound strange and I probably shouldn't say this, but I hope you all will somehow remain in each other's lives. Just in case you all didn't exchange numbers with each other when you awoke, their names and numbers are on the back of this letter._

 _I used some of your hidden cash so there would be no digital or credit card paper trail. Sorry about taking your money, it wasn't mines to take. But mostly, I sincerely apologize for using something (your body) that wasn't mines to use._

 _In closing, I wish you all the best. I found my soul mate at time when it didn't seem possible. If Lori is yours, then I say a very honest prayer that you both live a very long and happy life together. If she's not, then I pray you find the soul mate that you deserve._

 _With all Sincerity, Rick Grimes_

He turned the paper over. The names and numbers of six people were written neatly in his handwriting.

x-x-x-x

 _How do I process this?_ He asked himself that as he drove home; the bombshell letter still in his hand and still on his mind. He continued to process it as he sleepwalked through his life for the next three weeks. He went through his daily routine—still on autopilot. Work got done at the station. His superiors were pleased. His subordinates were helpful. The Section Chief position was all but his. The mayor was set to visit the station the following week to make the official offer.

Both Dr. Jenner and Jacqui Stone had called him regarding their follow-up meeting. The first couple of times he politely told them that his work demands for too great, thus not allowing him time to meet. He was less polite by the fourth call. It was one thing to _think_ they were liars; it was a whole different thing to know without a shadow of a doubt that they were. The idea of being anywhere near them made him physically ill. _Subliminal prompt my ass_. He wasn't sure if the others met with the two disingenuous researchers, but he had no intention of doing so. Not ever.

Each day he awoke with the resolve to reach out to at least one of his fellow 'captors,' then the day would end, and he hadn't done it. He was torn between wanting to forget and wanting desperately to remember. He had driven out to Daryl's auto shop. It ended up being a drive by. He just couldn't face Daryl or any of them—not yet. His own private off the book's investigation into their whereabouts during the lost days had proved beneficial. There was information that he needed to share with them, with _her_. He would. Eventually. It was an inevitability. He wanted to see them. The last time Rick had felt free was the night at the diner with the five strangers. Had he ever laughed the hard?

His home life had stilled. Lori knew that he was working hard to secure the promotion, so she didn't balk too much when he stayed late at work and left early in the morning. He'd kept his promise about taking Carl to the Speedway, and her to the steakhouse, which seemed to appease her. Her 'fertile day' for the month had come and gone, based on the ovulation calendar in their bathroom. She gave him the silent treatment for a couple of days after the date passed, which was mostly wasted since he was barely home. She eventually let it go and life went back to normal. Or at least normal for everyone but him…

He kept Rick's letter with him at all times. Reading it anytime he was alone. At times he slipped away from friends, family or co-workers to be alone so he could read it. He'd memorized nearly every word of the four-page letter written on girly stationery. He also kept the affirmation button on his person. It no longer lingered in his pockets awaiting his mindless fiddling. It was now pinned on his jacket when he went to work, on his dress shirts when he went out, on his athletic gear when he hit the gym, and on his t-shirts when he ran out to the grocery store. He told those who asked that it was something he'd picked up at some random store. It, along with the letter, had become his constant companions. His life lines.

The other change was one that was not as easy to consciously address…

He couldn't bring himself to touch Lori intimately. Whether it was guilt, lack of desire, or something deeper. He just couldn't do it. Actively avoiding her, with work as an excuse, had become his go to excuse. The excuse would soon become more difficult to sell. The bathroom calendar was a daily reminder that he'd have a task to perform with her soon.

It had been years since they'd had an active sex life. Rick always figured that it was par for the course in a marriage. Sex happened on birthdays and other special occasions. His marriage, as he assumed was true in most marriages, was not based around sex. It was about work, kids, mutual understanding, commitment, and respect. Sex was far down on the list. But lately he couldn't stop thinking about just that. Not the actual act, per se, but what it means.

Reading Ricks letter had shattered his world - or perhaps just shed light into the dark crevices that he purposefully ignored. It brought into question everything that he thought he knew; from the universe, to human existence itself. The way Rick had talked about _her_ being his soulmate. How he described sex with Michonne as a way of connecting. He couldn't get past it. He had begun to long for something that did not seem possible. Were he and Lori capable of that type of connection? It finally hit him. Cognizant of truths that he'd been running from. Late one night, sitting on the couch, while his wife slept soundly in their bed. He stared at the letter, squeezed his eyes shut, and allowed the truth to illuminate the darkness –

 _What they had is the exception, not the rule. A connection like he described is not in the cards for me. For us. Sex with Lori will never be like what Rick described. Am I okay with that? Am I okay with all of that? I have to be okay with it. Don't I? This is what commitment means. This is what life means. I can't allow Lori to see the disappointment on my face when we make love. I don't think I can hide it from her. Maybe I can fake it. Maybe she's been faking it for years. Maybe we both have. She deserves more. We both do, I guess. Fuck. What the hell are you thinkin' Grimes? Shit._

When he went to bed on August 9th he had a normal life. Wasn't perfect, but it was normal. There was only one earth, one Rick Grimes, and one reality. From August 10th to this day, only one month later, _normal_ had become a long-forgotten dream. Onlookers assumed his life was rocketing to the stars. He knew it was actually spiraling downwards, destined for a major crash.

He sunk his head deeper into the couch cushion. _I should take her to Hawaii like she's wanted for years. Maybe after the promotion is a sure thing. She'd like that..._

"…We could celebrate," he mumbled, audibly continuing the conversation that was going on in his head. His dull headache had morphed into an extremely persistent pounding. Undoubtedly from lack of sleep and unrelenting confusion.

 _I don't think fancy trips, marriage counseling, or even self-realization modules can fix this._ The thought rose above the annoying distraction in his head, "It's time that she and I have a talk," he softly told Rick's letter as he folded it back up and slid it down into his pocket. _I also need to talk to the others. Especially her._

* * *

A/N: Thank you so very much for reading. All reviews, follows, and favorites are so very appreciated. Blessings...


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